


More than words

by Solnyshko_UK



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Olympics, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, Happy Ending, Ice Skating, Inspired by Real Events, Language Barrier, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, No Smut, POV Victor Nikiforov, Pining, Sad and Happy, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29003640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solnyshko_UK/pseuds/Solnyshko_UK
Summary: Cute, Victor thought, before smiling gently. “Do you need any help?”If possible, the man’s eyes enlarged even more and darted from one side to the other of the room as if looking for a way out. Victor frowned.“I… uh… no English,” the man stuttered after a moment, refusing to make eye contact with Victor, his hands torturing the pen he was using to write earlier.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 56
Kudos: 212





	More than words

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of the prompt of the amazing [FuriousSnow](https://twitter.com/FuriousSnow/status/1269584150106783744?s=20) on Twitter. 
> 
> This story is very special to me.  
> When I found the tweet, I was intrigued. I've never written on a prompt, and I wanted a challenge, so I started thinking about a possible plot. And it came out all in a sudden, like a lightning bolt striking in my head. The thing is, I lived in Turin for 11 years, and I was there when the Olympic Games happened in 2006. I was there, and even if I didn't live it as much as I could have (which is normal for a person who lives in a city that is suddenly invaded by the rest of the world), I will never forget the atmosphere, the excitement, and staring at the Olympic flame burning in the sky and feeling something warm inside me.  
> And even if Turin wasn't my birthplace, I loved the city so much. It's very special and very underestimated.
> 
> So I have decided to go for it, for a story that involves the Olympic Games in 2006 and Turin.  
> I've chosen the places described in the fic very selfishly: they have been my favourites for the whole time I lived there. I've done my best to keep the descriptions short while giving the best idea possible of how special they are, but I have also added links in the notes at the end for those who want to see pictures or know more in general. 
> 
> A note about accuracy: I have done my absolute best to check days, events, names and how things went. But I also needed a plot, which means I had to bend reality in three specific occasions:
> 
> \- Yuuri's and Victor's age are canon, despite being 2006.  
> \- I have described an event which never happened in Takahashi Daisuke's storyline, but I needed that something to happen.  
> \- One of the songs (in my opinion, the most important) was released in 2013. It was absolutely impossible for me not to use it, so apologies if I have chosen to have it known already in 2006.
> 
> I have linked the songs because I think it's worth it to listen to them. It's what I've done, on repeat, while writing.  
> I have also linked the two free skating performances. They are worth to be seen. 
> 
> My undying love goes as usual to EmHunter, who has the dubious honour of being the one who is harassed by my ideas and my doubts. And my thanks to FuriousSnow for the prompt, which gave me the chance to write something so very, very close to my heart.
> 
> As usual, the work is not beta-ed, because we go down like heroes!  
> Enjoy!

_Turin, Italy_

_February 2006_

Victor lifted his eyes to the ceiling of the stadium to take in the metallic structures, the lights, the colourful flags hanging everywhere. His eyes trailed down on the walls coloured in red, the letters composing the 2006 Olympic Games motto “Passion lives here” and the five rings of the Olympic symbol painted in white. His lips bent upwards slightly, a shiver of excitement rushing down his spine.

Everywhere he looked, there were people. Some lingered aboard the ice; others ran from side to side; coaches watched their athletes or gave them the latest recommendations; ISU officials supervised everywhere to ensure everything was running smoothly. It was an orderly chaos, and Victor was at ease in the midst of it.

It was his second experience at an Olympic Games, the first being Salt Lake City in 2002. At that time, Victor had been much more nervous: he had joined Team Russia’s ice skating staff only a year earlier, and none of the international competitions he had participated in before the Olympics had prepared him for how overwhelming that experience could be. Plushenko and Yagudin’s rivalry didn’t help either, but they all had pulled up and finished with excellent results.

Abandoning his survey of the surrounding, Victor searched and found Evgeni Plushenko and Ilia Klimkin going through their warming up. Victor cocked his head on one side, taking in the difference between the two athletes. Plushenko was six years younger than Klimkin and in his prime. The latter was only one year younger than Victor, and most likely at the end of his career. With an inexistent rivalry, Team Russia’s atmosphere was much lighter, which meant that Victor’s job was more leisurely. A win-win situation.

Browsing the papers on the board in his hands, Victor quickly ticked off the errands already completed and focused on the next. He needed to confirm the interviews’ timing after practice was done, so he turned his back to the ice and left for the inner part of the Palavela, sure steps taking him towards the area dedicated to the press. Coach Mishin was incredibly strict with interviews, and everything had to go exactly as he wanted. Nothing escaped the Coach’s control. Therefore Victor had to be sure they were not going to incur in any surprise. Since arriving in Turin, Plushenko had withdrawn from the public, living in an apartment near the arena instead of in the Olympic Village, making it even more difficult for the press to get a hold on him. 

Upon arrival to the press room, Victor flashed practised smiles towards the press members he recognised, as well as greetings and polite chats with the staff of other athletes he regularly met during the various competitions in the figure skating circus.

Victor knew he stood out everywhere. He was tall, with a lean and muscular build evidenced by the suit he wore during his official duties. His features were strong, sharp jawline and cheekbones and a defined nose. But most of all, it was his silver hair, short but with longer bangs falling on the left side of his face, and his eyes, an intense blue with shades tending to green, that always caught everyone’s attention. 

Said eyes were lazily browsing the room while Victor was waiting in line for his turn when they passed briefly on a figure on the side of the room and abruptly went back to it.

The man was bent forward on a table, busy filling some paperwork. Victor could only see his profile: his soft, black hair fell in unruly tufts on his forehead, caressing his ear; blue-framed glasses poised on the tip of his nose, and his tongue poked through his lips in a show of extreme concentration. It wasn’t easy to make out anything in particular about his body because of his bent position, but he was sporting a nice dark blue suit, and the tag with his credentials was swinging slightly in the space, hanging from his neck. The suit’s trousers were underlying the man’s butt and his thighs very nicely, and Victor realised after a moment that he was staring much longer than it was appropriate. He snapped his eyes back towards the man’s head, only to find two large brown eyes staring back at him, slightly shocked.

“Mr Nikiforov? How can I help you?”

The voice calling his name forced Victor to turn his head back in front of him, finding the line of sight clear from people. A beautiful blonde-haired girl in the Palavela staff uniform was smiling at him, waiting for his answer. Victor recovered quickly and stepped forward with his signature smile on his lips. Confirming the timing took only a couple of minutes, and after that, Victor stepped out of the queue, his eyes going back to search for the man of before, finding him still at the same table, once again focused on his paperwork. Victor debated for a moment, torturing his lower lip between his teeth, before moving to close the distance.

“Excuse me?” He said, careful to keep a soft tone of voice not to startle the other man.

The head of black hair shot up, brown eyes once again meeting his behind the glasses. The next moment, the man’s lips opened slightly in surprise, and he hastened to straighten his posture, stiff and rigid, a blush colouring his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose.

_Cute_ , Victor thought, before smiling gently. “Do you need any help?”

If possible, the man’s eyes enlarged even more and darted from one side to the other of the room as if looking for a way out. Victor frowned. 

“I… uh… no English,” the man stuttered after a moment, refusing to make eye contact with Victor, his hands torturing the pen he was using to write earlier.

“Oh,” Victor said, taken aback. It was unusual to find someone unable to communicate in the most used language at an event of this magnitude, and Victor was a bit at a loss. “Then, maybe-”

“Katsuki-san!” 

A young woman joined them, out of breath, one hand rising to touch the man’s arm gently while firing out words in some foreign language at an impressive speed. The man looked instantly relieved and answered in the same language, pointing one finger at the paperwork on the table. The woman nodded with an encouraging smile, and the man shoved the papers together, before bowing awkwardly to Victor and moving towards the main counter. The young woman seemed to realise only then about Victor’s presence and offered him a quick bow, straightening back before talking.

“My name is Yuuko Nishigori, Mister Nikiforov. I am sorry about Katsuki-san: he is very new at the job, and this is his first international competition. He is very nervous, and unfortunately, he did not have enough time to learn English well enough yet. I hope he did not offend you in any way,” she said, using very formal English without contractions.

Victor felt the need to reassure the woman as quickly as possible. “Not at all. I’m afraid I was the one in the wrong, and I wanted to apologise. I was lost in my thoughts earlier and ended up staring in his direction for too long. I’m worried I made him uncomfortable.”

By the time he finished his answer, the other man had joined again and was looking between the two of them helplessly. 

Yuuko Nishigori smiled. “Allow me to help,” she said, before turning towards Katsuki-san, as she had called him, and starting once again talking in the foreign language. 

The brief exchange had given Victor enough information without even asking. The use of the form “-san” meant he was in front of Team Japan staff. He had to concentrate and dig into his memory to find anything useful about the Japanese figure skating’s team composition: only one man was competing for his country at this Olympic Games, Daisuke Takahashi. Victor recalled the skater was in Turin after a series of rocking happenings going back to the previous season. He was likely not going to be a threat to Evgeni, but the same wasn’t necessarily true for Ilia. Takahashi was young and at his first Olympic Games, but it wasn’t unheard of talents emerging under pressure.

The stranger’s voice, soft and rich, brought Victor back to the present. He was again talking to Yuuko Nishigori, but his eyes kept glancing towards Victor, the blush coming back on his face. Victor took the chance to fill in every detail about the man he couldn’t check earlier. He was slightly shorter than Victor, his figure harmonious and soft around the waist, revealed by a slight tightness of the shirt tucked in the trousers. His features were gentle, but he had defined cheekbones and jawline nevertheless. His skin looked smooth and a shade darker than Victor's, his lips full, his nose adorably small. But the most endearing trait was most definitely his eyes: this close, Victor could appreciate how expressive they were, warm brown with golden sparks floating inside, like deep pools of melted chocolate.

“Katsuki-san would like to let you know that no apologies are needed. He did not take any offence in what he is sure was just a coincidence,” Yuuko Nishigori translated after the other man finished talking.

_Not quite_ , Victor thought, but he kept the thought for himself and smiled instead. 

There was no need to prolong the conversation after that, but Victor found himself reluctant to depart from the other man. Despite the impossibility to have a conversation, there was something in him that made Victor want to know more about him. Or maybe, it was precisely because they couldn’t have a conversation that Victor wanted to stay close to him, help him, even protect him-

Victor nearly started when he realised where his thoughts were going, and he cleared his throat, raising a fist in front of his mouth to regain composure.

“Thank you for your help, Yuuko Nishigori,” Victor said, choosing to use the full name, unsure of the correct form in English. “Would it be too much trouble for you to tell me how I can greet him properly directly? I’m afraid I didn’t even catch his name.”

Something akin to amusement sparkled in the woman’s eyes, a small twitch of the right corner of her mouth preceding the next words. “His name is Katsuki Yuuri, Mr Nikiforov,” she said, “and I think the easiest way to greet him would be a simple goodbye. He knows the most common words.”

“But what if I would use your language?” Victor asked, hoping not to come out too pushy. “I mean if it’s not a problem.”

Yuuko Nishigori looked at him for a few long seconds, thoughtful. Then moved her gaze on the Japanese man, who was watching the floor intently, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. 

“I think,” she said after a moment, looking back at Victor, “that _mata ashita_ should work. It means “until tomorrow”.”

Victor replayed the two words in his mind before turning towards the other man, who was now looking curiously at Yuuko Nishigori, probably because of the Japanese words.

“ _Mata ashita_ , Katsuki-san,” Victor said, trying to pronounce the words at the best of his possibilities, bowing at the same time. When he straightened, Yuuri’s face was flushed red, his eyes impossibly wide and his jaw slack. Victor managed to suppress the enthralled laughter that nearly escaped his lips, and that would no doubt be misunderstood. “It was nice to meet you, Yuuko Nishigori,” he added.

“It was nice to meet you too, Mister Nikiforov,” the woman said, bowing slightly, before saying something to the Japanese man, likely that it was time to go.

Yuuri Katsuki seemed to hesitate for a moment; then, he bowed to Victor, before licking his lips and murmuring slowly, careful with every word “See you soon, Nikiforofu-san.”

The next moment, he left the room as fast as he could without actually running, Yuuko Nishigori following.

Victor stood still for long minutes, looking in the direction the other man had disappeared. He kept repeating those last words, the extra syllable added at the end of his surname so endearing.

“Yuuri,” he whispered, savouring the name on his lips.

____________________

  
  


The end of the Men’s short program competition was approaching with all the contestants done with their performances. After hours of errands and interviews, as well as standing still and waiting, Victor felt the urgent need of a coffee. 

Evgeni Plushenko was leading the board, Ilia Klimkin too behind to even think about a medal. It wasn’t unexpected, but it didn’t make it less disappointing. Victor couldn’t help but notice that Daisuke Takahashi was fifth, a good position that still gave him a chance to aim for the podium. 

Victor reached the room reserved for the staff refreshments for the day, walking through the threshold while focused on his phone screen, when a soft humming caught his attention.

He raised his eyes, puzzled, and found the room blissfully empty and quiet, except for a man who had his back to the door. It took only a moment for Victor to recognise the dark blue suit and the black hair: Yuuri Katsuki was busy with a kettle and a mug, humming in a low voice. If the room hadn't been empty, Victor probably would never have heard him. However, as it was, he could listen long enough to recognise the wordless [melody](https://youtu.be/0R-FGchhwLw) sung by the unsuspecting man. He felt his heart do a funny leap in his chest. What were the chances? Amid an untold number of existing songs globally, what were the odds that a man from such a different culture was there now humming one of Victor's all-time favourite songs?

Unable to restrain himself, Victor waited for the melody to reach a point in which he could step in and, trying to keep his voice low so as not to scare the young Japanese, he began to sing, moving further into the room.

_Then you wouldn't have to say_

_That you love me_

_'Cause I'd already know_

Despite all the precautions, Yuuri started so violently that the only thing that prevented him from getting burned with the hot liquid contained in the mug was that he had already placed it on the countertop. The young man spun around so quickly that he almost lost his balance, and Victor found himself rushing forward, his hands grabbing the other man's shoulders to support him, barely managing not to drop the phone.

In the distance allowed by Victor's outstretched arms between them, they looked at each other with wide eyes and heavy breathing.

There was a moment of absolute stillness before Yuuri looked down at one of Victor's hands on his shoulder and tried to escape the contact instinctively, his attempt frustrated by the countertop behind him. At the same time, Victor realised that he had violated Yuuri's personal space, albeit in good faith, and had touched him - _a Japanese man, for goodness sake, anyone knew how much the Japanese people hated physical contact -_ without permission. Victor stepped back with a small jump, drawing his hands back to him as if he had touched a burning surface.

“I’m sorry, Katsuki-san, I’m so sorry, I-” 

Victor interrupted his rambling when he remembered Yuuri didn’t understand English. In the previous occasion, Yuuko had told him that he knew the most common words, so there was a good chance he knew the word “sorry”, but Victor felt the need to do something more. He started tapping fast on the phone screen, quickly opening the first app he could find useful for the task at hand. After a few moments, a robotic voice coming out from his device resounded in the room, making known what Google Translate thought it had to say.

“Gomen'nasai”

Victor wasn’t sure what was more effective, maybe the sound of the familiar word or perhaps the look of pure panic Victor probably had on his face. Or perhaps it was the new distance between them, the personal space restored. Whatever it was, Yuuri released the steel grip he held on the countertop, and his posture relaxed a little bit. He seemed on the verge of saying something when his eyes trailed from Victor’s face to something beyond his shoulder. Before Victor could turn around, another familiar voice broke the fleeting moment of silence.

“Is everything okay here?” 

Victor looked over his shoulder towards Yuuko Nishigori, her eyes darting between the two of them, a puzzled expression on her face.

“Ms Nishigori, you are a blessing in disguise. Or maybe not even in disguise,” Victor rushed to say, turning partially towards the woman, so he had her on his right and Yuuri on his left. “I’m afraid I need to apologise to Katsuki-san once again, but I’m not sure I have enough time to type everything I want to say. And I don’t know if the app could translate properly anyway.” 

Victor went on without even taking a pause, effectively overwhelming the Japanese woman with words while going through the recent interactions between him and Yuuri. At some point, he heard rustling noises and a tell-tailing tinkling of a spoon against ceramic on his left. Without stopping talking, Victor glanced towards Yuuri, who was slowly stirring the beverage he was preparing when Victor had arrived - tea, according to the scent -, starting drinking it shortly afterwards in short, careful sips. His eyes were trained on the mug, thoughtful, but he didn’t seem as distressed as before.

When Victor finished going through everything, he exhaled heavily and hesitated for a moment, before lowering his eyes on the floor. “I couldn’t resist singing some lyrics of the song because it’s one of my favourites,” he added sheepishly. “I’m truly sorry.”

Yuuko Nishigori didn't flinch during the whole avalanche of words that came out of Victor's mouth. Not an expression of disdain, nor one of judgment crossed her face. Instead, something akin to understanding softened her gaze progressively. In the end, the young woman's expression was kind; her lips curled in a polite smile.

"Please, bear with me for a moment, Mister Nikiforov,” she said, before turning to Yuuri and starting talking in Japanese.

Victor’s focus moved on Yuuri then. While helplessly waiting for Yuuko to explain what had happened appropriately, he couldn’t help but feel nerves gripping at his stomach. To be honest, he was mildly surprised by his feelings. Victor’s personality was naturally charming, despite his colleagues often referring to his exuberant behaviour as shenanigans. In reality, Victor was a very private person, not keen to let others intrude in his personal life. He was a professional, and the pleasant mask was a necessity for his line of work, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t exhausting. He guarded his feelings carefully and very rarely felt more than a brief attraction for anyone. More often than not, it all ended with fun hookups and a friendly goodbye. So why-

His thoughts were interrupted by Yuuri’s eyes moving onto him, meeting his own with a contemplative gaze. Victor became aware that Yuuko wasn’t talking anymore, probably done with her explanation. After a moment, he also realised that he couldn’t remember what he was thinking about before those pools of brown and gold turned on him.

“It- is okay,” Yuuri said, his voice unsure, a blush spreading on his cheeks. “I- I love-,” he tried, frowning, “-song?” Yuuri released an exasperated huff and dropped the mug on the countertop a little too forcibly. The blush quickly turned into an expression of angry frustration, and he started talking to Yuuko in what sounded like an aggressive tone, clipping sounds coming out from gritted teeth, his hands gesturing midair.

Victor flinched, the fear he had offended the young man more than he thought rising sharply inside him. But he couldn’t wrap his head around the few words in English Yuuri had tried to say: did he mean he loved the song? But then why the anger?

Contrary to him, Yuuko’s expression didn’t change at all. She listened to what Yuuri said, nodding from time to time, answering something that sounded like “hai” a couple of times. Eventually, Yuuri stopped talking, breathing heavily, embarrassment now evident on his face. He raised a hand to scratch nervously his neck, eyes trained on the floor, and murmured some more words, one of which sounded like the one Victor had searched online before, “gomen'nasai”.

Yuuko smiled gently and shook her head slowly before looking at Victor. 

“Katsuki-san would like me to tell you that everything is fine. He wants to apologise for his reaction; you took him by surprise, and he is...” There was a pause as if she was searching for the right words to continue, “not good with surprises. Katsuki-san also says he is glad you prevented him from falling and he took no offence for the physical contact. What he was trying to say in English was that he likes the song very much, and he is happy you share the same appreciation for it.”

Victor nodded, feeling relieved. He was ready to reluctantly take his leave when Yuuko went on, with the same smiling expression on her face and the same tone of voice, but very different words.

“He is finding it extremely frustrating not to be able to communicate with you. It never bothered him, not talking to others. He is a very private person, introvert you could say; he is shy and doesn’t make friends easily. It is a sort of comfort for him, knowing the barrier language prevents him from having to socialise. Losing his temper like that is inconceivable for him, and yet he couldn’t control it at all because he was not able to talk to you directly.”

Yuuko Nishigori bowed after those words as if she had finished her assigned task, and Victor had to craft his expression carefully to hide the surprise. He quickly realised that Yuuko hadn’t used any name in that last part of her speech, probably to avoid Yuuri’s suspicions. If this was true, then those weren’t words Yuuri had asked to translate for him, but something Yuuko herself wanted him to know. While Yuuri turned to wash his mug and put it back in the cupboard, the woman straightened back and winked at Victor. 

Once ready, Yuuri moved next to Yuuko and bowed to Victor, keeping his eyes low. 

“Goodbye, Nikiforofu-san,” he said carefully, glancing up once to meet Victor’s gaze and smiling softly.

“Goodbye, Katsuki-san,” Victor replied, shocked by how breathless he sounded.

He left the room a couple of minutes after the two Japanese, coffee forgotten.

____________________

  
  


Victor protected his eyes from the light with one hand placed across the forehead while watching towards the sky. There was no threat of rain, the sky was a uniform light grey, and the morning light that filtered through that curtain was more annoying than direct sunlight. Victor debated with himself for a moment whether it was worth looking for sunglasses, rejecting the idea shortly after. The pair he owned was in his apartment; there was really no point in buying another one just for the day.

For now, the immediate solution was undoubtedly walking under the arcades that dotted the historic centre of the city. Victor had read with great interest how the arcades had been built from the year 1606 to allow the nobility to take long walks sheltered from the rain in winter and from the sun in the summer months. They covered a total length of more than eleven miles, seven and a half of which were composed of continuously interconnected galleries. 

Turin burst with life in every corner. The city was stormed by athletes, staff and fans, adding to the usual population. Wherever he turned, Victor heard different languages and saw people from every corner of the planet dressed in the most disparate styles, all with one thing in common: the excitement of being in a place where one of the most exclusive sporting events in the world took place. He couldn't help but smile in front of so much enthusiasm, unconsciously dragged by the energy that permeated the air.

When Victor stepped into Piazza Castello, he took a moment to take in the magnificence in front of his eyes. Turin had been the first capital of Italy. Before being exiled, the House of Savoy had their home in the city, and the Royal Palace was located in that square, along with Palazzo Madama. Via Garibaldi, the second-longest pedestrian street in Europe, started a short distance from where Victor was standing to extend for more than half a mile of shops of all kinds. Usually, Victor would have happily indulged in shopping, but today he had a definite plan of places to visit. It wasn't always a given that the Olympics were held in a city that oozed history, and Victor had every intention of making the most of the free day between the short program and free skating.

After taking a picture of the square with his phone, the Russian turned to walk towards the large pedestrian street where his first destination was based, when a nearby figure caught his attention. It was a man, wrapped in a light brown shapeless jacket, a blue scarf around his neck and a dark grey beanie pulled down over his head. The position hid his face, a surgical mask covering the lower half, his fingers typing frantically on the phone screen. Victor narrowed his eyes: there was something familiar in that figure, something that inevitably diverted Victor's steps to bring him closer, careful to make it look casual. He had almost reached him when the mysterious man jerked his head up, looking around as if searching for something. As soon as Victor saw the framed blue glasses and dark eyes dilated in worry, the hesitation melted like snow in the sun, and he quickened his pace.

“Katsuki-san,” Victor called cheerfully, giving the other man the chance to be aware of his presence before the distance between them reduced too much. 

The Japanese man jerked his head in the direction of the call, and Victor could see the trembling of the young man's hands and his wide eyes gleaming suspiciously. Sucking in a breath, Victor closed the distance almost running, coming to a stop two steps away from Yuuri, respecting his personal space.

"Katsuki-san, are you okay?"

Yuuri removed the mask from his mouth, putting it in the pocket of his coat. His lips were set in a thin line, his features hardened by tension. The gleaming in his eyes had disappeared, replaced by something that resembled frustration mixed with more significant relief. After a quick bow in greeting, a rambling series of Japanese words followed, with Victor helplessly watching the other man. The Russian caught a few curious glances from passing people, so when Yuuri had to pause to take in a breath, Victor gently coaxed him into following him under the near arcade, stopping in the relative privacy of the narrow path.

“Katsuki-san, do you need help?” Victor asked tentatively. “Uhm, Yuuko Nishigori?” He tried.

Now calmer, Yuuri bit his lower lip, and Victor couldn’t help but find the action incredibly endearing. The Japanese man slowly shook his head, and Victor assumed it meant that Yuuko wasn’t there with him. Yuuri seemed to mentally debate with himself for a few moments until he picked up the phone he had held in his hand and opened an app that Victor didn't recognise. The young man spoke in his mother tongue into the phone, then turned the screen towards Victor with an embarrassed expression.

Victor noticed a whole series of Japanese characters in the upper part of the screen and English words in the lower.

“I am so sorry. I was looking for a place, but I can not find it, and I can not ask for directions. I am just frustrated. I went out alone today. I am relieved to see a familiar face.”

Understanding dawned on Victor, and a bright heart-shaped smile broke on his face. Yuuri looked taken aback, but Victor couldn’t help it: he _could_ talk with Yuuri! Sure, it would be cumbersome and not very spontaneous, but it was still a way to communicate.

Yuuri frowned and said something else, and Victor read on the screen more words.

“Is this not working? Did it say something funny?”

Victor hastened to shake his head, signalling to Yuuri if he could look at his phone for a moment. After finding the app’s name, Victor quickly downloaded it and set it to translate from English to Japanese. It was a talking app, so all he had to do was talk on the microphone and hope the translation made sense.

“Not at all. I am just happy we have a way to communicate.”

Victor turned the screen to Yuuri and waited for the Japanese man to read the words, a crease breaking his forehead’s smoothness. Victor couldn’t help but send a silent prayer to whoever might be listening that the app worked.

Yuuri’s expression turned into surprise, and he glanced up at Victor, meeting his eyes with a shy smile on his lips.

“I am happy we can talk as well.”

Victor barely restrained himself from throwing his fists in the air in triumph, a giggle leaving his lips. Yuuri’s cheeks became deep red, and Victor remembered himself and Yuuri’s previous frustration.

“Do you need help? Maybe I can help you find your destination? Unless you want to go back to the Olympic Village.”

While Yuuri read from the screen, Victor raised another prayer to whoever heard the previous one. It was such an opportunity to know Yuuri better. Victor desperately wanted for the other man to say he didn’t want to go back.

“I do not want to impose,” Yuuri answered, an anxious expression on his face.

“Nonsense. I have a list of places to visit today, and it would be my pleasure to help you find whatever site you are looking for,” Victor hastened to answer.

Yuuri nodded shyly then, and Victor felt his heart soar in his chest. It was so silly, but just the idea of spending time with Yuuri made him feel giddy.

“Okay,” Victor said into the phone, “what is the name of the place?”

Yuuri covered his face with both hands for a moment, before tapping something on his phone and showing the screen to Victor. It was an empty document with a few words carefully written in English. A name and an address. Victor blinked twice, before raising a very confused look at Yuuri, who blushed even more.

“Goblin?” Victor asked tentatively.

“Goburin,” Yuuri said softly, nodding shyly.

“Goblin,” Victor repeated, and Yuuri nodded again. Before the Russian could ask anything else, the Japanese shot a few words in his phone, showing the screen to Victor immediately after, his cheeks and the bridge of his nose still bright red.

“It is a shop dedicated to board games and miniatures.”

Victor felt his cheeks ache from the wideness of his smile. This day was well on its way to becoming memorable. It took him only a minute to realise the shop Yuuri was looking for was somehow between his first and second destination, which gave him an idea. 

“Katsuki-san, do you like bookstores?”

Upon Yuuri's nod, Victor carefully chose the words for the next question.

"My first destination is the second oldest bookshop in Italy. It would require a little detour from the shop you are looking for. Would you be interested in visiting it?"

Yuuri took a moment to consider the question, biting his lip again and moving his gaze upwards as if contemplating something. Victor found him unfairly gorgeous, but he refrained from letting his thoughts shine through.

"I would be honoured, Nikiforofu-san, if it is not an inconvenience."

“Victor,” the Russian said aloud after finishing reading the words on the screen, raising his eyes to meet Yuuri’s. At the confused look he found there, Victor smiled gently, pointing his right index towards his chest. “Victor.”

Yuuri’s blush came back in full force, and for a moment, the Japanese man hid the lower half of his face into the wool of the blue scarf around his neck, lowering his eyes. Then he met Victor’s gaze again, freeing his mouth once more and licking his lips.

“Victoru-san,” Yuuri said in a quiet voice.

Victor released a slightly shaky breath. Really, _everything_ in Yuuri was unfair, even the way he added syllables and struggled with foreign words. The Russian slowly shook his head, smiling.

“Victor,” he insisted, “No Victor-san. Only Victor.”

Yuuri hesitated only for a moment, before nodding with a timid smile. “Victoru,” he said, before pointing at himself. “Yuuri.”

“Yuuri,” Victor repeated, tasting the name on his lips, rolling it like a caress. 

Yuuri’s answer was a beautiful, honest smile that lit up his face entirely.

They started walking together, one attracting the attention of the other from time to time to point to something, gestures and smiles and simple words conveying enthusiasm or perplexity. And laughter. The same difficulty in communicating that should have been a barrier between them became a source of delight in the face of increasingly creative attempts to explain things to each other without stopping to read words from their phone screens.

They found the bookshop easily. Despite the length, the width and the number of shops which together formed via Garibaldi, it would have been impossible not to see the enormous bookshop and its five showcases and two sets of entrance doors, all framed by carefully kept wood. The huge name "Paravia" stood proudly above the doors, written in white, elegant italics. The shop windows showed potential customers books of all kinds, from classics to the latest releases, following a precise pattern, each window dedicated to a particular target of readers. Yuuri and Victor lost themselves in the maze of bookshelves, sometimes together, others each on their way, searching for treasures buried in shelves and shelves of volumes.

When they left the shop, each of them was holding a bag, smiling as only those who have made a great purchase can.

After turning off a side street, with Victor carefully following the map on his phone, they found the Goblin in a maze of quaint little streets, with medieval-style flags everywhere, indicating the existence of some sort of Contrada. Here the shops were much smaller, similar to ancient artisan workshops, and with much more refined and particular products. Both men went in and out of the most exciting shops, sometimes for Victor and other times for Yuuri, and they found many souvenirs for friends and families in their respective countries of origin.

Yuuri immersed himself in the miniatures and games available inside the "Goblin" with a concentration and a passion that made Victor smile uncontrollably. Simultaneously, the Russian wandered among the shelves and cabinets, observing everything with mild curiosity. When they left the shop, with Yuuri bowing to the owners in thanks, the Japanese man’s eyes were shining like stars, and another bag had been added to their collection.

They were still laughing - Victor gesticulating with his hands and twisting his facial features to describe the miniature of some kind of monster he had seen in the shop - when they reached Via Garibaldi again and stopped in a space outside the mass of people walking everywhere. An awkward silence fell between them; Yuuri had his eyes turned to the ground while Victor raised one hand to his neck, nails nervously scratching his skin.

“Arigatou gozaimasu, Victoru,” Yuuri said softly, and Victor knew what Yuuri meant. The errand they had started together was done, so Yuuri was ready to head back.

Except, Victor wasn’t ready at all.

He didn't think about what he was saying, nor what words he was using, while he rushed to talk into his phone’s microphone. Victor only knew that he needed to ask Yuuri one question and to receive only one answer in return.

“Would you like to continue sightseeing with me?”

Victor turned the phone towards Yuuri, swallowing heavily. His heart was pounding in his chest, and his brain seemed stuck on a continuous refrain of “ _please, say yes”._

It seemed an eternity, but eventually, Yuuri's eyes lifted from the words written on the screen until they met Victor's gaze. The expression of pure joy on the young Japanese's face was enough to make Victor almost pass out for how he made his head spin.

“Yes,” was Yuuri's reply, spoken aloud and perfect in its shortness.

“Okay,” Victor answered breathlessly. He knew his eyes were wide and that he was staring at Yuuri, but he couldn’t help it, and the other man didn’t seem bothered by it, staring back with the most beautiful light in his deep dark eyes and a perfect, happy smile on his lips.

Eventually, Victor broke the eye contact to check the map on his phone for the best route to reach their next destination. Nodding, Victor reached out on impulse to grab Yuuri's hand and started walking, crossing the wide pedestrian street to go back into a maze of side roads. It was only when they were away from the chaos of the tourists that Victor realised what he had done.

"Oh," he said, stopping abruptly and releasing Yuuri's hand, feeling the blood rise to colour his cheeks. Yuuri raised the same hand to push his glasses slightly back on his nose; his cheekbones and nose were rosy, but it was hard to tell if it was from embarrassment or the cold. His eyes were calm, though, and his smile warm, and this reassured Victor that Yuuri hadn’t taken offence for his impulsive gesture.

After that, they resumed their previous habit of walking and catching each other’s attention to point to something. It didn't take long to reach a small square, dominated by an elegant church with a slightly rounded shape. A square tower laid on the right side of the front door, which was framed by an imposing structure of four columns and flanked by a niche on each side, each containing a statue. An ornamental gate encircled the entire building, disappearing around the corner. Victor tapped lightly on Yuuri’s shoulder to get his attention and showed him his phone screen.

“The church is next in line, but first, there is something we have to try.”

While saying so, he pointed his right index towards a small place that stood right opposite the church. The door and the window were painted in black; a small, red carpet stood in front of the entrance, and bold, capital letters in gold formed the name “Al Bicerìn”.

Victor grabbed Yuuri's hand again and walked towards the door with a quick, excited step. The interior was tiny, with just six round tables that could hardly accommodate two people. However, the atmosphere was warm, with wood everywhere, and the internal heat was a relief after the time spent in the cold. There was a small line of people waiting, and Victor took advantage of this to talk longer than usual in the translation app, after releasing Yuuri’s hand for the second time. Once again, the Japanese man didn’t seem to have minded the physical contact.

"This place is ancient. It was founded in 1763 and here was born a coffee-based drink that you can only find in Turin. It is called Bicerín. It is a traditional hot drink made of espresso, drinking chocolate, and milk served layered in a small glass. Here they know the original recipe and the exact proportions of the ingredients, and it is a closely guarded secret."

Yuuri read slowly, focused. He made a few sounds of surprise, his soft lips forming a lovely o. Victor absorbed every change in Yuuri's face, every sound emitted by the shorter man, with the same voracity with which a man lost in the desert would approach a flask of water found by a miracle. When he finished, Yuuri spoke briefly on his phone, the sound of his voice soft and quiet.

“How do you know all of this?”

Victor felt his cheeks turn red again and composed his answer in a slightly embarrassed voice.

"I like to find special things to visit when I am travelling around the world. It is such an opportunity to see different cities, cultures, habits. I try to understand what is part of the most ancient traditions and is worth experiencing or visiting."

When Yuuri looked up from the screen after reading the answer, his face showed such an open admiration that Victor couldn’t help but feel a little jolt of pride.

When it was their turn they placed their order, and Victor paid for both of them, unwilling to hear Yuuri’s complaints, making an open show of ignoring the screen that Yuuri was trying to put under his nose. Eventually, Yuuri gave up with a sigh and murmured a gentle "thank you". Victor grinned.

With their Bicerìn in their hands, they moved on a side, standing close to one of the small tables. The hot beverage was delicious, and Victor released a moan before he could think better. The Russian slammed a hand over his mouth, but it was too late. Yuuri’s eyes were as big as saucers, his shoulders trembling, and it didn’t take long for the Japanese man to burst into laughter. It was so beautiful, so full and heartfelt, that Victor decided on the spot that he was going to spend as much time as possible to make Yuuri laugh like that again and again.

When Yuuri spoke on his phone a moment later, voice still full of mirth, Victor was ready for relentless teasing or some fun remarks. He didn’t expect what he read at all.

“I think we should exchange phone numbers.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, and Yuuri hastened to talk into the app again, joy replaced by worry.

“I think it is better in case we lose each other somewhere. We can not talk on the phone, but with the app, we can text.”

Victor felt sorry for making Yuuri worry with his reaction. Still, instead of losing time trying to explain how important it was to him that Yuuri asked first something so meaningful, he smiled one of his more honest smiles, one he knew was heart-shaped, and nodded eagerly. After tapping briefly on his screen, Victor passed his phone to Yuuri, already open on a new contact form. Yuuri’s relief was evident in his soft smile. With their phone numbers securely saved in each other's devices and their stomach warm from the drink, Victor and Yuuri bid their goodbye to the owners and crossed the square to go into the church. Once inside, Victor gave some information about the place again to Yuuri, speaking softly into the microphone while the Japanese stared wide-eyed at the magnificence in pink marble and gold details that surrounded them.

"It’s called Santuario della Consolata or, in its full name, the Church of the Virgin of the Consolation. It’s a Baroque masterpiece built by several distinguished architects."

Yuuri's answer was concise. "It is opulent."

Victor chuckled. "It is. But pink and gold are my favourite colours, and I had to see it."

When they walked out of the church, squinting after being in dim light for a while, Victor consulted the map on his phone again.

"Now?" Yuuri asked aloud, using a word that he obviously knew.

"Lunchtime," Victor chirped on the phone. "We have a market to find, and we can have something to eat. It’s just around the corner," he said, pointing in the opposite direction from which they came before showing Yuuri the answer.

They had only taken a few steps when Victor felt something tentatively slip into his hand. He looked down abruptly and found Yuuri's hand clasped to his own. With the roar of his heartbeat in his ears, Victor ventured a glance at Yuuri's face, but the Japanese had hidden the bottom half in his scarf and kept his eyes stubbornly on the ground. Victor did not miss the tremor that reverberated in his hand, and he closed his fingers around Yuuri's. The Russian couldn't be sure he actually heard a shaky exhale coming from the other man, muffled by the scarf, but he decided he liked the idea enough to believe it was real.

Soon they were once again surrounded by people. The square where the market took place was massive, cut in four identical sections by a large, trafficked road that cut it from west to east, and a smaller street that crossed the larger one from north to south. The open market extended to two quarters: one selling items like clothes and shoes and general objects, and the other - easy to distinguish thanks to the coloured stalls - focused on different kinds of food. The third quarter hosted the covered market, with stalls selling products like fish or meat, and the last quarter a shopping centre. People swarmed everywhere, and the buyers shouted to promote their goods and attract customers. 

It was incredibly full of life, but also slightly overwhelming, and Yuuri clenched Victor’s hand as if it was the only thing keeping him alive, preventing him from drowning. Victor squeezed Yuuri’s hand back and drew small circles on his skin with his thumb, hoping to reassure the Japanese. They strolled, browsing the stalls, with their shoulders pressed together to prevent people from walking in between them. Victor talked briefly on his phone and showed Yuuri the message when they were pausing in front of a stall selling small statues carved in wood.

“This market is called Porta Palazzo and is the largest open-air market in Europe. The sellers are often international, and you can find a variety of ingredients available only here. And in the surrounding streets have different ethnic shops as well.” Victor seemed to remember something then and spoke a few words on the microphone again. “Oh, and there is a gelateria that used to use the ingredients unsold at the market to make their gelato. Not that we would eat gelato with this cold.” Yuuri chuckled when he read the message, and Victor smiled.

They took their time to walk around a little longer, Yuuri taking pictures here and there; then Victor asked him what he wanted to eat. The Japanese seemed to take the question very seriously, so they left the market to check the surrounding streets until they found a lovely pizzeria which wasn’t too busy. They sat down at a table, grateful for a respite from the cold outside. For a while, both were extremely busy entering the ingredients from the menu, which was in Italian only, into their respective apps. When they were finally sure they had found something they would like, Victor placed the order for both, adding two beers. The waitress brought them a basket of bread still warm from the oven, along with some marinated olives which they shared, not without a playful battle for who would eat the last one. Victor managed to lose credibly, letting Yuuri have it, feeling something inside him flicker at Yuuri’s happy smile, so wide that small lines appear on the sides of the Japanese's eyes.

They took advantage of the time they could look at the phone screens without haste to exchange information about them. Victor told Yuuri that he was 27 and discovered that Yuuri was 24. They talked about their hobbies, the differences in their work, their families. Yuuri spoke of Hasetsu, of the ocean, of the long bridge that connected the two parts of the city, of the ninja castle that dominated everything from the top of a hill. Victor was so fascinated by the idea of ninjas that for a while, he filled Yuuri with questions about its history, making the Japanese laugh several times due to the ridiculousness of some requests. 

Then it was Victor's turn to talk about St. Petersburg, how much he too loved looking at the sea and listening to the seagulls. He spoke of Yubileyny and the long hours he spent in the office to meet the Russian Federation’s ever-pressing demands, of the short time he had for his personal life, of his few friends and how they spent the occasions when they could meet.

When Victor fondly named his dog Makkachin, Yuuri’s eyes, hitherto very attentive to every word, lit up like suns. The Japanese hastened to tell about his dog, Vicchan, who was waiting for him at home. They discovered that they both had a poodle, with the only difference in size, a standard and a toy, and from that moment on it was a succession of cooings and gasps while they both went through the collection of photographs on their respective phones.

After a very satisfying lunch, they resumed their strolling, their hands slotting together as if it was the most natural thing to do. When they reached back Piazza Castello, Victor suggested a change of route to go back to the Olympic Village. They walked down under Via Po’s arcades, stopping to watch some shop windows or to look into the fancy, historical cafes that dotted that part of the city. When the Mole Antonelliana appeared out of nowhere on their left, they both stopped in awe, watching the tall building and its spire. Victor tapped one-handedly quickly on the phone, managing to move the shopping bags around his wrist so that he didn't have to leave Yuuri’s hand with the other, and spoke on the app before showing Yuuri the translation.

“It is here since 1889. It was supposed to be a synagogue, but now it houses the National Museum of Cinema. It is believed to be the tallest museum in the world.”

Yuuri was gaping as he couldn’t quite make sense of the building’s monumental proportions, and Victor could relate. It was awe-inspiring, mainly because it could stay hidden until the very last minute despite his height.

Eventually, they managed to tear their eyes off the Mole and reach the massive square at the end of the road. Piazza Vittorio Veneto had a commanding view of the River Po, and the impressive dome of the church Gran Madre di Dio could be seen on the other side of the river.

“Is there anything that is not the biggest, largest, longest or tallest thing in Italy, Europe or the world in this city?” Victor laughed wholeheartedly at Yuuri’s message, and the Japanese grinned madly.

They crossed the piazza slowly, taking their time to look at everything, and when they reached the other side, Victor pointed at a pavement that ran under them, along the river, reachable thanks to a flight of stairs not far away.

“If we follow it, we can find our last destination and then go back to the Olympic Village.”

They went down the steps hand in hand and walked along the paved embankment, dotted on the inside with small pubs and clubs. On the other side, Italy’s longest river Po’s waters flowed about four inches below the pavement. Sensing from the direction of Yuuri's gaze what might pass in the Japanese's head, Victor spoke briefly into the phone, before showing the screen to the young man.

"This place is called the Murazzi. When it rains for many days, especially in winter, the river rises enough to flood the places you see here completely."

Yuuri seemed particularly impressed by the information and shotted words on his phone.

"Why are they staying here? Do they not lose everything every time?"

For once, Victor didn't know what to say. He had been looking for an answer to that same question but without success. Victor just shrugged with a bewildered expression and Yuuri chuckled.

The walk was long and pleasant, despite the cold. The Murazzi was a trendy area, even though it had its peak in nightlife. It was particularly sought after by young people, and the clubs were renowned for staying open until the wee hours, despite being practically outdoors. Even if it was just afternoon, the places were all open thanks to the Olympic Games’ crazy number of tourists. The crowd only began to thin out slightly when they were far enough away from the supply of beverages. Shortly after, they found themselves inside a vast and perfectly kept park. Although the trees were bare and the sky grey, it was easy to understand how it must be a wonderful place during the warm season, and undoubtedly very busy. Even now it had a charm impossible to deny, with its paved walkways amidst manicured areas of plants and trees.

“Let me guess. This is the biggest park in the whole of Italy,” Yuuri joked through the screen of his phone.

Victor shook his head and answered quickly. “Actually, this is Turin’s second-largest,” he replied. And then, with a cheeky gleaming in his eyes, he added a second translation. “But the biggest one is indeed Italy’s most extended urban green area.” Yuuri groaned, and Victor couldn’t help but laugh.

After a while, Victor heard Yuuri let out a sound of surprise and shifted his attention from stealing sideways glances at the Japanese to what was in front of them. An entire medieval village stretched along the river bank; the pathway they were on led directly to the entrance gate, complete with a small wooden bridge. Victor and Yuuri walked through the village, exploring every little ravine, finding small inner courtyards and souvenir shops. They decided not to visit the fortress that towered above them, preferring to observe the high walls from where they were.

It was only when they left the village and resumed their walk along the river that Victor explained how the place was a medieval reconstruction inspired by the 15th century, which was built to host the Ancient Art section of the 1884 Turin Expo.

“This city certainly does not lack surprises,” Yuuri said, managing to sound both impressed and resigned, and Victor could only agree.

It took another hour to walk back to the Olympic Village. By the time they reached the set of colourful buildings, the sky was already dark and the afternoon nearly finished, and the laughter and the little banter had grown quieter the closest they came to their destination. 

When they reached the intersection that would take both of them to the respective residences, Victor and Yuuri stopped facing each other. As if by unspoken agreement, they both released their hands simultaneously, with a naturalness that contrasted with the sudden awkward silence between them. 

For two people who’d had more silence than words throughout the day, that stillness now expressed more than they could ever tell through any app, text, or gesture.

Victor was the first to raise his hand to bring the phone to his mouth. "Thank you for coming with me," he said, his blue eyes fixed on Yuuri and a smile on his lips that spoke of reluctancy.

"Thank you for sharing your time with me," the younger man replied in a voice so soft that gave the cold words on screen a completely different meaning. His dark eyes were restless under the artificial light of a lamp street, emotions appearing and disappearing like waves of a stormy sea.

After that, they just stood, neither of them willing to move first. Victor couldn’t be sure, but for a moment, it felt as if Yuuri swung, the distance between them diminishing imperceptibly. Or maybe it was himself who moved, attracted by those deep eyes in the same way as when you are on the edge of a ravine and feel the irrational urge to let go.

The sound of happy shouting and approaching voices broke the spell, and Yuuri jolted with a sharp intake of air. The Japanese moved one step back and bowed to Victor, before murmuring a quick "tomorrow”, turning his back to the Russian and walking briskly away. When Victor finally recovered from the daze, Yuuri was already far away, and he could only watch the other man’s back until he disappeared around the corner of a building.

____________________

  
  


_From: beautiful Yuuri_

I am so sorry for leaving in that way. You probably think I am very ungrateful. I truly had a fantastic day.

  
  


_To: beautiful Yuuri_

There is no need to apologise. I am so happy I had the chance to know you better. I hope we will have more occasions in the incoming days.  
  


_From: beautiful Yuuri_

Me too. Good luck for tomorrow.

  
  


_To: beautiful Yuuri_

Davai!

  
  


_From: beautiful Yuuri_

The app does not recognise the word?  
  


_To: beautiful Yuuri_

Oh, it is Russian. It means come on! Like, good luck.

_From: beautiful Yuuri_

Oh. Then, davai you too.

  
  


_From: beautiful Yuuri_

Ganbatte.

  
  


_To: beautiful Yuuri_

Is that Japanese?

  
  


_From: beautiful Yuuri_

Yes. For good luck.

  
  


_To: beautiful Yuuri_

I am going to practice the sound with the app so that I can tell you in person.

  
  


_From: beautiful Yuuri_

Good night, Victor.

  
  


_To: beautiful Yuuri_

Good night, Yuuri.

____________________

  
  


When the final notes of ["The Godfather"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ajp5xglwb0k) echoed in the Palavela, the audience, already delirious since the last sequence of steps, went wild. Spectators could be seen standing everywhere, yelling at the top of their voices and clapping wildly. Russian flags waved on each side of the stadium, and soft toys rained on the ice, engaging the young collectors. Evgeni Plushenko collected his success in the rink by skating slowly, exhaustion visible on every line of his face despite his smile. When the speaker’s voice called his name and his role at representing the Russian Federation, the young skater stopped in the centre of the rink, waving his hand and bowing deeply to each side of the public. Doubling his triple flip wouldn't affect the result in the slightest, especially considering he started his performance with a 10-point lead over everyone else.

While Evgeni and Coach Mishin stood in the Kiss-and-Cry, acknowledging a new world record for the Russian skater and an Olympic gold medal de facto in his pocket, Victor searched for the umpteenth time that day Yuuri’s gaze. They weren’t too far, the area for the skaters big enough to give each of those ready to skate enough space to concentrate, but still allowing anyone else the chance to glance around. 

Yuuri was clapping along with the rest of the Palavela, but his eyes weren’t on the star of the moment. Instead, his deep brown gaze focused on Victor behind his blue framed glasses, and a beautiful, shy smile bent his lips. Victor mimicked an exaggerated bow, widening his arms and moving his head elegantly downwards, the long bangs of silver hair, forming a curtain that covered his pleased smile. Of course, both of them knew very well that Victor had very little to do with the Russian skater’s triumph, but that was beyond the point.

Since the beginning of the free skating competition, Victor and Yuuri had used every opportunity to exchange glances for conveying their opinions on what they saw. Raised eyebrows, wide eyes, cautious grimaces and small hand gestures. Under different circumstances, it would have been a full-blown conversation—and judging by the respective reactions, a quite fiery one. Behind the timid facade, Yuuri hid an uncommon competence and clear ideas on what he considered worthy and whatnot. He did not shy away from making it unmistakable even through their unusual means of communication, and Victor enjoyed enormously this new side of the Japanese man.

There was so much Victor still wanted to know about him.

When Plushenko and Coach Mishin left for the short round of approved interviews, Victor decided to stay and watch the remaining skaters from where he was. Daisuke Takahashi still had to perform, and his chances for a medal were still relatively high. Victor wanted to be sure to be there whatever the result. Takahashi was just nineteen years old, and the pressure of an event of this magnitude could be overwhelming. For what Victor knew about Japan, carrying the weight of representing his proud Country and having a chance to take home a historical medal wasn’t probably making things easy for the young skater.

When Takahashi started warming up going through his choreography on the solid ground, Victor waited to catch Yuuri’s gaze and cocked his head on a side in a silent question about the skater’s conditions. Yuuri shrugged as if to answer he wasn’t sure, but the crease of his mouth looked worried.

Finally, the Japanese skater took the ice under thundering applause and loud cheers. Victor searched once again Yuuri’s gaze and mouthed slowly “ganbatte” so that the other man could catch the word. Yuuri beamed, before training his eyes on Takahashi.

The notes of [Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2](https://youtu.be/8NDz9B0VcHk) rang in the Palavela and Victor couldn’t help but grin. Of course, that was a well-known piece of music and therefore an obvious potential choice. But Victor still decided to consider the coincidence of a Japanese skater performing to music by a Russian composer as a sign of fate instead. 

As if he and Yuuri were meant to meet.

Victor turned his face to see if he could meet Yuuri’s eyes to convey the thought somehow. At that moment, a collective gasp rose in the stadium, and Victor, instead of meeting his eyes, could see Yuuri's face suddenly turn pale, a hand slammed in front of his mouth. Turning abruptly back to the ice, Victor managed to catch the silhouette of Takahashi sliding on the ice, a moment before he got up and continued. After a short choreographic piece, the young skater performed a triple Axel. The ensuing hesitation suggested to Victor that it should have been part of a combination, aborted at the last minute.

In his years as a member of the Russian skating staff, Victor had witnessed quite a few emotional breakdowns in skaters who made a mistake at the start of their performance. His experience allowed him to greatly appreciate the incredible strength that the young Japanese skater put in continuing his program. There were perfect jumps, and also several imperfections, but his footwork was a masterpiece and his artistic component of extreme quality. Takahashi was still fighting hard for the bronze medal, and despite the mistakes of the first part, he finished an almost flawless second part, putting his soul into it to the ending note, the last, dizzying spin and the final position on the ice.

Victor applauded with the rest of the stadium, turning to look for Yuuri. The young man returned his gaze with a bittersweet expression, and Victor took care to send out how sympathetic he was.

The situation did not improve in the Kiss-and-Cry. The judges penalised Takahashi in the marking for repeating too many jumps and underrotating others. When all was said and done, Takahashi was eighth, and Plushenko won his gold medal.

Disappointment was the only emotion that managed to pierce the otherwise stoic masks of Yuuri and Daisuke Takahashi. The Japanese people were too accustomed to controlling their image for those who watched them from the outside to show anything that made them look less than flawless. The skater had fatigue and young age as excuses for his slip. And Yuuri obviously didn’t want to hide what he felt from Victor, considering how the Japanese allowed him to read his real emotions in his eyes, before having to devote himself to his commitments.

Victor and Yuuri didn’t see each other again that day. 

Victor toyed with the idea of texting Yuuri more than once but decided against it. The Japanese delegation probably wanted to lick their wounds in the privacy of their rooms, and Yuuri knew he could text Victor if he wished to. At least, the Russian told himself, their Olympic commitments were now much less until the closing ceremony, which would take place in ten days.

He would take advantage of the time they had and ask Yuuri out as much as possible.

____________________

  
  


The next day, Victor spent the whole morning filing paperwork and taking part in a meeting to finalise the Figure Skating Champions Gala. Evgeni Plushenko had already qualified to take part, and he would be accompanied by Edvin Marton himself playing live at the violin. The performance required a careful plan, so the meeting stretched until after lunchtime.

When he was finally free, Victor ran back to his shared apartment to finish the new list of places he wanted to visit with Yuuri in the next few days. The Japanese had texted in the morning, wishing him a good day, and despite being a short exchange, just the fact that Yuuri had contacted him had put Victor in an excellent mood. 

The afternoon was well into its end, the February sky already turning dark when Victor focused on a particular destination, which would have required a rented car. It was located just outside the city, so maybe they could go the day after and add another couple of places, to make the most of having a car at their disposal. He should definitely text Yuuri and ask if it was something he wanted to do.

His phone vibrated on the desk next to his hand, and Victor glanced towards the screen. A big smile broke on his lips when he saw Yuuri’s name on the pop-up notification. What a coincidence, the Russian thought, tapping on the screen to visualise the text. Now he could ask-

Victor stared at the screen of the phone for what felt like an eternity. He blinked a couple of times, then rubbed his eyes. The text was still there. The words were impossible to mistake, but Victor’s brain just couldn’t process them.

“Victor. Something came up in Japan, and Takahashi-san has to leave urgently. I have to go with him.”

That was impossible. It was the Olympic Games, what could be so urgent to make an athlete miss the Closing Ceremony? But most of all, why did Yuuri have to leave as well?

With trembling fingers, he managed to compose only “When?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

Victor felt the ground opening under his feet. His head was suddenly spinning, and he couldn’t breathe. It felt as if a gigantic hand was squeezing everything inside him.

“But the Ice Dancing and the Ladies competitions still have to start,” was the only objection he could think about, “and Japan has athletes competing.”

“I know. But I am a member of Takahashi-san staff and the JSF wants me to travel with him.”

Did the situation even impact Yuuri? He sounded so calm, so collected.

Victor dropped the phone on the desk and raised his hands to cover his face, leaning back against the back of the chair. It wasn’t fair. They were supposed to have many days to spend together, knowing each other better, holding hands again…

Had it all been only in Victor’s mind? Did he overthink Yuuri’s action, did he see things that weren’t there at all?

The phone buzzed again, and for a moment, Victor wasn’t sure he wanted to read the text. Yuuri was probably thanking him again for the time they spent together and wishing him the best for the future. Victor’s hands dropped in his lap, and he couldn’t help but look at the papers underneath the phone. All his careful plans, all the notes about the new places to visit. It was as if the universe was mocking him, putting the phone with the final words above all that he would have liked to do.

Eventually, Victor moved a heavy arm and took the phone in his hand, scrolling the screen with his thumb to reveal Yuuri’s text, resigned.

“Victor, can we meet?” 

Victor gaped. And then something in his chest started to swell, becoming impossibly painful and warm at the same time. Yuuri wanted to see him. And Victor had to try.

“Have dinner with me, Yuuri. Let’s go out.”

Victor knew that Yuuri probably meant to meet just for a quick coffee or something similar, but-

He couldn’t even finish the thought that the phone buzzed again. 

“Where and when do we meet?”

Victor covered his mouth with one hand, closing his eyes to hold back the tears that pressed behind his eyes. He’d thought that Yuuri would hesitate; that he would take some time to answer, unsure how to turn down the offer without being offensive. Instead, Yuuri had replied immediately, without having to think, accepting the invitation as if he’d had precisely that in mind all along. 

Yuuri wanted to see Victor as much as Victor wanted to see Yuuri.

With a new determination, Victor tapped place and time on the phone, sending out the text. Then, he tore and trashed the notes that would never be needed and began a new search.

____________________

  
  


When the taxi left them at the edge of the dark road near the entrance of an open gate, Victor could see the perplexity on Yuuri's face thanks to the dim light that came from inside a courtyard still partially hidden by the hedges that lined the road.

After paying and thanking the taxi driver, Victor gently placed his hand on the small of Yuuri's back, inviting him to walk with him through the gate.

The short dirt drive soon led them to a paved stretch flanked by small lampposts, and then to the door of a building otherwise shrouded in darkness. Above the door, the plaque bore a name written in Italian, which put a frown on Yuuri's forehead. The Japanese man talked briefly into his phone, before showing Victor the screen.

“Where are we?”

Instead of answering, Victor smiled knowingly and urged Yuuri to pass the threshold. A young waiter greeted them and checked their reservation before walking them through a short corridor. It opened onto a spacious room, separated into smaller spaces by some columns. The waiter led them to their table in a reserved area at a corner of the restaurant. The place was half empty, but even if it had been at full capacity, they would have had privacy. Yuuri glanced at the other patrons; the vast majority consisted of couples talking to each other in a low voice, enjoying the atmosphere. The restaurant was not luxurious, but it still had a style of its own, giving an impression of elegance combined with cosiness. If Yuuri found it somehow embarrassing to be in a restaurant quite obviously sought after by couples, he didn’t show it in any way.

Once they were seated facing each other, the waiter hastened to open the bottle of still water on the table, pouring it into their respective glasses. He informed them that he would be back soon to collect their order and left with a polite bow.

Yuuri sported an expression which was a mixture of curiosity and perplexity, so Victor started talking on the app. As soon as the Russian words came out of his mouth, Yuuri’s attention moved on him, his warm eyes framed by the glasses looking at Victor as if he could understand everything he was saying. Their eye contact only broke when Yuuri lowered his gaze to read from Victor’s screen.

“We are in a part of Turin known as Collina, the Hill, and as you have seen, it is not easy to come here, so there are no tourists. The waiter will be back shortly to take our orders. Do you want some wine? "

Yuuri opened his app and started talking, his eyes once again looking and finding Victor’s, locking with them.

“I trust you for the choice.”

Victor did his best to keep his breathing even. Yuuri’s gaze was so intense and focused on him as if the Japanese were trying to memorise every detail he could. Victor felt the weight of that gaze upon himself, as tangible as a hug. Yuuri's eyes, even deeper in the muffled light of the chandelier above them, had the attractive force of a vortex, commanded attention, and seemed to tell him "don't ever take your eyes off me".

And Victor helplessly and willingly obliged.

When the waiter came back to explain how dinner worked at their restaurant, Victor nodded along with the words without looking at the man, uncaring of being rude. The waiter was a professional and accomplished his task without showing any reaction, silently taking leave at the end. Victor raised his phone to translate without even sparing a glance at what he was doing.

Yuuri almost didn’t read. It was visible on every line of his face how much he was battling with himself, how much he loathed the idea of looking away. Eventually, the Japanese bit his lower lip and lowered his gaze on the screen once again, making it look like it was a physical effort. Victor inhaled as if he hadn't been able to breathe normally until then.

The evening was proving to be difficult. Ever since they met, they had exchanged only a few words. Not because they had nothing to say to each other, but because neither of them seemed to want to use the time they had, which they knew was very little, to read words on screens. Even now, Yuuri nodded to the written text but did not attempt replying. Instead, he brought his elbows to the table and laced his fingers, resting his chin on them. It seemed to take longer this time for him to raise his eyes, the line of his lips slightly tighter.

Victor resisted a full minute of staring before inhaling deeply and letting out an audibly tremulous sigh.

"Say something, Yuuri. Anything," he pledged, whispering.

Victor didn't think Yuuri understood. His were words dictated by need. The need to hear Yuuri’s voice. To get lost in the chocolate-coloured eyes and never find the way back, if returning meant having to part with the other man.

Victor didn't expect an answer.

And yet.

"I don't want to go," Yuuri said, his words carefully spoken as if he had practised the sentence over and over, his voice just cracked at the end.

In the silence that followed, it almost seemed like a twist of fate when the music playing softly in the restaurant changed to make way for ["Can't help falling in love with you"](https://youtu.be/vGJTaP6anOU) in its original version of Elvis Presley.

Neither of them moved, nor they diverted their gazes. 

As the song enveloped them in its timeless spell, as he and Yuuri sat at the table facing each other, eyes into eyes, unable to speak and yet communicating so much, Victor briefly wondered if that wasn’t it.

_Take my hand_

_Take my whole life too_

_For I can’t help falling in love with you_

Did he fall in love with Yuuri? Was it even possible to fall in love with someone he met just days ago and with whom he couldn't hold a proper conversation? 

Victor almost chuckled. It was his brain speaking, of course. The rational part of him that occasionally tried to convince him that being a regular, predictable person wasn't that bad.

But Victor had never been average. Not in the same sense intended by the vast majority of people. So many had told him over the years how extra he was, how demanding he was, how too much he was. Over time, Victor had created a perfect mask of charm and efficiency and had hidden behind it to such an extent that it was now second nature to him.

Until he couldn't use it.

How do you show the persona you want to be seen to someone who can’t be charmed by sweet-talking? How can you make winks and perfect smiles work on someone who can't even look you in the eye? How can you make silken tones of voice shine through an app that translates messages on a screen?

By the time Yuuri had been more comfortable around him during their city tour, so many of Victor’s walls had fallen already. Victor could see it now. Now that Yuuri’s eyes weren’t running from him anymore and Victor didn’t feel other need than showing him his true self. 

It should have been terrifying. Instead, Victor felt calmer than he’d ever been, grounded.

Victor’s consciousness had turned inward during that moment of understanding. When he came back to himself, the Russian realised his eyes had unconsciously slightly dropped. He started and snapped his eye up again to look for Yuuri's gaze, ready to apologise for the distraction. But he could only stare. The Japanese’s lips were bent in the softest of the smiles, his eyes closed. With his chin still resting on his intertwined hands and his elbows on the table, Yuuri was rocking his torso lightly to the rhythm of the song.

Did Yuuri know the song? It was famous enough that it wasn’t impossible.

Did he also know the lyrics, the meaning? Why was he smiling in that way, making Victor’s heart aching even more with longing?

“What are you thinking about, Yuuri?” Victor whispered, and the other man opened his eyes, unrushed, tilting his head on a side with a questioning look.

Victor shook his head slowly, smiling. He took his fork and mimicked the act of taking it to his mouth. Yuuri nodded, his eyes softening, and both of them raised from their chairs to go choosing the antipasti from the buffet.

There were some perks in not understanding each other, Victor thought. 

For example, pretending he asked for one thing instead of another.

  
  


____________________

The taxi left them in Piazza Vittorio Veneto as per Victor request.

It was almost midnight, and the square was swarming with people who filled the premises still open. Laughter and shouting in all languages filled the air, fueled by alcohol, and Victor felt Yuuri press against his side. Yuuri had partially hidden his mouth inside the scarf that encircled his neck, but Victor could see that he was smiling at the chaos around them.

Victor grabbed Yuuri's hand and walked towards the bar closest to them. After finishing dinner, the two had quietly agreed that a drink would be welcome, and Victor had unsuccessfully tried to hide the relief he had felt knowing that Yuuri also didn't want to end the evening yet.

Victor ordered a drink for both of them, and they went out to sip it just outside the door, the place too full to stay inside. A group of young Japanese people were chatting animatedly nearby, apparently trying to figure out how to take a picture that would include them all. 

Yuuri looked at them for a minute or so, then handed Victor his glass with a pleading look in his eyes. The Russian took it without question and nodded, smiling. Yuuri smiled back softly and headed towards the group. Victor watched the young man bow and receive as many bows in return. There was an exchange of words, and Yuuri took a phone from one of the boys before taking the photo for them. When he returned the phone, the group bowed again and involved Yuuri in conversation.

Victor felt a pang of acute nostalgia at seeing the young man, at ease in talking in his mother tongue, laugh as he had done during that day they had spent together. The Russian tried not to think about the next morning; he didn't want to ruin the time they still had, measurable in hours now, with sadness. There would be more than enough time for that in the next days.

Victor noticed Yuuri glancing at him more than once, before bowing to the Japanese people and returning to him.

"Sorry," he said apologetically, and Victor shook his head with a smile, handing him his glass again.

The cocktail was not particularly strong, yet Victor noticed something changing in Yuuri as the liquid went down. It was a subtle change, a different light in his gaze, a more confident posture in his shoulders and in the way his chin remained higher. After Victor put their empty glasses on a nearby table, Yuuri took his phone out of the pocket of his coat and tapped a few times. When he turned the screen towards them, Victor realised he had turned on the selfie mode camera.

“Yes?” Yuuri asked, his tone of voice so hopeful that Victor felt his heart jolt in his chest. He nodded, not trusting his voice.

They pressed together to fit in the screen, Victor being careful not to get too close so as not to make the Japanese uncomfortable. He was completely taken aback when Yuuri bent his head to rest it on his shoulder, a light pink blush under his eyes visible in the camera. Victor remembered to breathe and laid his head against Yuuri's, placing his cheek on the other man's black hair. The photo immortalised Yuuri's big, warm eyes behind his glasses and Victor's slightly awed blue ones; they were both smiling with barely-there smiles, the ones that seem to suggest secrets too big to reveal. Victor adored the picture immensely and signalled Yuuri to send it to him, with urgency in every gesture. The Japanese obliged chuckling, and Victor stared at him, struck.

Suddenly, the bass of nearby music resounded in the square, and Yuuri perked his head. The next moment, he grabbed Victor’s hand and started walking towards the river.

The closest they went, the loudest the music became. It didn’t take long to realise it was coming from the Murazzi, and Yuuri eagerly pulled Victor down the stairs, making space in the crowd, until they reached a spot where the dancing people left enough room for others to join. Yuuri turned to Victor almost without stopping, his eyes sparkling in the soft light of the streetlamps above them, and Victor decided he would agree to whatever the other man would ask him to do, even jump into the river for a midnight swim in February.

Yuuri didn’t ask.

Instead, he changed the hold on Victor’s hand and put the other on his waist, starting dancing effortlessly, taking the lead with a confidence that left Victor breathless. People surrounded them, yet Victor felt like they were alone, so much Yuuri demanded his undivided attention. Nothing else existed but the sparkling eyes of the Japanese locked with his. It didn’t matter if they swirled, circling each other or moving away before rejoining. There was a magnetic force that drew their gazes towards each other with no way out. The physical contact between them was almost constant, and most of the time initiated by Yuuri. There was a longing in their dancing at odds with the mindless pounding of the music and the laughter around them. Victor grabbed the other man and dipped him low, and Yuuri laughed, brightly and happy. 

It was torture. 

Victor wanted it never to end.

He had no idea how much time passed. They danced without a pause until they were forced to stop for exhaustion, panting, their bodies wrapped in winter coats sweating despite the cold night air. They faced each other just a few inches away, smiles slowly dying down the more they came back to reality. 

The [music](https://youtu.be/BmErRm-vApI) changed and became slow, signalling the approach of the end of the night. The notes were generic enough not to give away the song immediately, but when the first lyrics echoed, understanding dawned, and Victor froze, eyes wide and air failing his lungs. His head spun for just a moment, enough for the next verse to start.

_I'll be the one, if you want me to_

No, that wasn’t fair, Victor thought desperately. There were thousands of songs in the world. Why did it have to be this one? 

_Anywhere, I would've followed you_

Apparently oblivious of the storm raging inside Victor but somehow attuned to the song, Yuuri leaned forward and laid his forehead against Victor’s collarbone, over his coat. His hands came up to hesitantly rest on Victor’s waist, and the Russian dropped his head back, eyes squeezing closed and teeth clenching. There was a sob pushing inside him and threatening to rip his chest in two. Victor had to go through all his control to push it down into his stomach.

The music, relentless, was loud enough to drown out the rattle that scraped his throat. Victor was forced to straighten his head to swallow, and Yuuri's black hair stroked his chin. The Russian felt another wall collapse inside him and dropped his head forward, placing his cheek against Yuuri's temple, his arms coming up to circle the Japanese around his shoulders, holding him close.

Victor knew what words were coming next, and he couldn't help but sing them, whispering in Yuuri's ear, knowing he wouldn’t understand.

_And I will swallow my pride_

_You're the one that I love_

_And I'm saying goodbye_

Maybe it was because the voices of the singers sang the words in that heartbreaking way. Or maybe because the melody screamed about pain. 

Or maybe, Yuuri couldn’t understand any word but one, one that was known to him. 

He had used it once already, in a much lighter way.

Goodbye.

Whatever the reason, Yuuri started trembling, and his hands slipped around Victor’s waist until they rested on the Russian’s back, fingers clenching the fabric of the coat. The young Japanese never raised his face from Victor’s collarbone for as long as the song went on.

The notes faded into silence, and no other song followed. People around them laughed and chatted, and Victor couldn’t understand how the world could keep going on when Yuuri was slowly slipping through his fingers with every minute that passed.

When Yuuri moved in his embrace, starting to retreat, Victor instinctively resisted. The shorter man’s hands released the grip on the fabric of Victor’s coat and slid softly towards the front, hands brushing up between them until they reached Victor’s chest and stopped there, palms spread, pushing gently. The Russian relented, feeling as if it was his own heart moving away from him.

Yuuri raised his face slowly. His eyes were clear, but there was such raw pain in them that Victor’s knees nearly buckled under him. 

Now that they weren’t dancing anymore, the cold was almost intolerable. So close to the river, the wind was humid and implacable, and soon both men began to tremble. There was nowhere else they could go now, it was too late in the night for the premises to remain open. People were dispersing everywhere, and Victor knew there was no way to postpone the inevitable. He gently reached out and intertwined his fingers with Yuuri's; then, faking self-control he was far from feeling, Victor started looking for a taxi that would take them to the Olympic Village.

It was 3 in the morning when they walked between the silent buildings.

They stopped on the same intersection where they had bid their goodbye only two days earlier, facing each other, their hands dug deep in the pockets of their coats, clouds of condensed steam formed in front of their mouths with each breath. The Russian felt a strange sense of deja vu when Yuuri eventually raised his gaze from the ground to his face, finally meeting his eyes. Victor would have given anything to erase the bewilderment from the Japanese's look.

Yuuri opened and closed his mouth a few times, without any sound coming out. Eventually, with his tensed shoulders giving in defeat, he said: “Thank you.”

“No, Yuuri. Thank _you,_ ” Victor managed to say, emphasising that “you”. 

The Russian wanted to be absolutely sure that Yuuri understood how important the time they had spent together was for Victor. 

How important _Yuuri_ was to Victor.

But words couldn't help him, and he refused to give such a meaningful message to a phone screen. So he did the only thing he could do. Victor slipped his hands out of his pockets and closed the short distance between them, encircling the Japanese’s smaller frame with his arms, holding him close, trying to convey everything he couldn’t say in the gesture.

Yuuri’s body was so tense that Victor wondered if he’d made a mistake. Maybe Yuuri didn’t want that contact. Perhaps he’d overstepped his boundaries. He was ready to retract when he felt something grasp at his waist. Yuuri’s hands were clenching the fabric of Victor’s coat so hard that Victor felt his fists trembling. Yuuri was hiding his face in Victor’s chest as he’d done on the riverbank, and Victor indulged in dropping his mouth on the mop of black hair, a touch so light that Yuuri could have simply mistaken it for a warm breath.

An eternity passed, or maybe ten minutes. The night remained dark, the silence around them deafening, their world circumscribed by the light from the streetlamp above them.

It was Victor who broke the stalemate, softly calling the other man's name.

“Yuuri?”

There was no answer nor a move.

“Yuuri,” he tried again.

Yuuri inhaled deeply, stealing himself, before retracting slowly, releasing the hold on Victor’s coat with rigid fingers. Victor let his arms soften around the other man’s body, his hands brushing his back, his shoulders, and stopping on his forearms. Their gazes met again. Yuuri’s eyes were resigned and calm behind his crooked glasses. Everything in the Japanese posture and expression was controlled, only the clenched jawline giving away the sham. Victor wore his best mask and smiled reassuringly.

“Tomorrow?” He asked. “Goodbye?”

“Yes.”

Victor nodded. Again, neither of them moved first, their eyes locked. It would have been so easy, Victor thought when his balance wavered as if Yuuri was drawing him to himself. At the same time, Yuuri seemed to lean forward imperceptibly. Victor felt the breath stutter in his chest and parted his lips, trying to get more air into the lungs. Yuuri’s gaze dropped to follow the small movement.

There was a moment of absolute stillness, the whole planet holding its breath, waiting for something.

A snap like broken wood rang like a bullet in the night, and both men jumped, instinctively separating. Not far away, a cat came out of a bush, hesitated in front of the two humans, and darted away in the opposite direction.

Victor and Yuuri giggled nervously and eyed each other, but the moment was gone.

The two wished each other good night with a few whispered words before turning and walking each to their own apartment. 

Neither looked back, both bent under the weight of the impending farewell.

.

____________________

  
  


It was useless.

The clock signalled 6.30 in the morning and Victor hadn't slept a wink. Initially, the Russian had gone to bed and tried to sleep. But sleep continued to elude him. Rolling over and over in bed, all he could see every time he closed his eyes was Yuuri's face so close to him, his dark eyes descending on his lips.

Victor had given up and got out of bed at some point, moving to the apartment’s common area to make tea. Since then he had been crouched in the armchair in front of the window, looking at the dark sky without seeing it, the cup of tea now cold in his hands. Victor kept repeating the scene in his mind; he saw it rewind and repeat itself over and over again, and realised he had made a huge mistake.

He should have kissed Yuuri.

Now the opportunity was gone, and there would be no other. In four hours Takahashi would leave the Olympic Village to head to the airport and Yuuri would go with him. They wouldn't see each other again until November, at Skate Canada International.

Nine months.

And there was no guarantee that Yuuri would still want to spend time with him then.

When he couldn't resist anymore, Victor decided to go out again. The sky was still dark, and the air cold, but all was better than soaking in regret, feeling the four walls of the apartment close around him like a prison.

He wandered, his gaze dropped on the ground, his hands dug in the pocket of his coat. He didn’t know where he was going, and it didn’t matter. All he was hoping for was to get exhausted enough to collapse as soon as Yuuri was gone. He didn’t want to have to think and remember, he wasn't sure he could do it.

When he found himself at the base of an upward ramp, Victor barely looked up, realising he was at the Olympic Arch. There was a line of light on the horizon to the east now. The bridge would be an excellent spot to watch the sunrise, Victor thought, starting to walk up. When he reached the top, he kept walking, his eyes still trained towards the light that was now turning the sky in a pale blue over the horizon. 

Victor glanced forward to check there were no obstacles in his path and froze in the middle of a step.

At the centre of the bridge, bent forward and with his forearms resting on the railing, Yuuri was staring east. The Japanese looked exhausted. It was still too dark to make up his expression from that distance, but his body language was unmistakable.

Victor stood still, caught between indecision and amazement. What were the chances? And what was he supposed to do now? If Yuuri had come here to have peace, maybe Victor should-

As if he had sensed something, Yuuri turned his face towards Victor and froze. His body straightened stiffly. Victor didn’t think. It was a siren’s call, and he answered, starting walking again, slowly, his eyes never leaving Yuuri’s face. The Japanese turned his body to face Victor completely, his arms stiff at his sides and his fists clenched. Victor couldn't read the signs, but he decided he should at least try. Yuuri was not withdrawing, so maybe he was not opposed to Victor approaching him.

The light increased in the sky, now tinged with pink and blue. Victor slowed down again and stopped two steps away, uncertain. His eyes widened as he took in Yuuri's state, his dishevelled hair, his cheeks stained by tears and his eyes red from tiredness and crying. Victor felt his heart ache intolerably at the despair painted on the other man's face.

"Yuuri ...," Victor whispered, his hands coming out of his pockets to rise towards the Japanese.

The next moment Yuuri was in his arms.

The smaller frame shook from sobbing, and Victor held him against his chest fiercely, feeling his own eyes swelling with tears. He opened his mouth to say something, but Yuuri was faster. His hands raised from Victor’s chest to his cheeks, the tips of his fingers dug in the skin and pulled down. Yuuri’s face had moved upward simultaneously; the shorter man raised on the balls of his feet and collided their lips together.

The sun broke above the horizon just then, illuminating their bodies tight together and their mouths exploring each other, making the tears streaming down their cheeks sparkle like diamonds. 

____________________

  
  


**_Plushenko not skating at Worlds: report_ **

_CBC Sports · Posted: Mar 06, 2006 4:38 PM ET_

_Olympic gold medallist Evgeni Plushenko of Russia reportedly won't compete in the upcoming World Figure Skating Championships at Calgary._

_Plushenko, 23, told the Itar-Tass news agency Monday that he planned not to enter the Worlds, to be held March 20-26._

_[...]_

____________________

  
  


_St. Petersburg, Russia_

_March 2006_

  
  
  


_From: beautiful Yuuri_

How is Plushenko-san?  
  


_To: beautiful Yuuri_

He needs rest. He is battling against past knee injuries for a long time now.  
  


_From: beautiful Yuuri_

Will you still be at Skate Canada?

  
  


_To: beautiful Yuuri_

Of course. I will travel with the other Russian skaters. I’m not working for Evgeni specifically. The Russian Federation has to chain me down to prevent me from going.  
  


_From: beautiful Yuuri_

Please don’t make them chain you down, Victor.  
  


_To: beautiful Yuuri_

It’s a figure of speech, Yuuri.

  
  


_From: beautiful Yuuri_

You mean you wouldn’t push them until they would do it?  
  


_To: beautiful Yuuri_

Uhm...

____________________

  
  


_Victoria, British Columbia, Canada_

_November 2006_

  
  


Victor was bouncing on his feet outside the restaurant where he and Yuuri had agreed to have dinner together. They both had arrived in Canada that day, but they hadn’t yet had a chance to meet. The usual routine pre-competition - paperwork, confirming interviews and rink time - had weighed on Victor more than usual. Time seemed to have dragged along with unbearable slowness, and their flight arrivals differed so much that he hadn't even had a chance of meeting Yuuri during the errands.

They had exchanged messages as soon as they had landed, though, and it was now only a matter of minutes before he could have Yuuri in his arms again.

Victor inhaled sharply and exhaled slowly, willing his hands to stop clenching in his pockets. He was nervous. There was no reason to deny it. Nine months had passed since Turin, and the only contact he and Yuuri had had were texts. Communication was still a huge issue for them, and Victor missed the sound of Yuuri’s voice incredibly.

“Victor!”

Victor’s head shot up, blue eyes frantically searching among the people crowding the sidewalk until he finally saw him. Yuuri was walking fast, one hand raising quickly in a shy wave while he came closer and closer. He was wrapped in his usual shapeless jacket; his blue scarf circled his neck softly, his black hair hung messily around his face as if he had run. 

Victor felt tears rise to his eyes, and he blinked quickly to chase them away. 

He opened his arms in a silent invitation. Yuuri threw himself against him with such force that Victor had to take a step back not to lose his balance. Their arms closed around their bodies like two puzzle pieces finally in place and for long moments, they remained motionless, oblivious to the grumbling and glances of those who were forced to circle them to keep walking.

Eventually, they moved enough to be able to look at each other. Victor raised one hand to caress Yuuri’s cheek and lowered his face until his lips found Yuuri’s, humming contentedly. He kept the kiss sweet and short, knowing Yuuri’s discomfort for public displays of affection, resolving to indulge more later in a more suitable environment. The Japanese smiled against his mouth and opened his eyes when Victor pulled back, finding blue ones already searching.

Victor disentangled from the embrace and clasped Yuuri’s hand, pulling him inside the restaurant. Once they were seated at the table, the Russian opened the app and talked briefly, showing the message to Yuuri straight after.

“I missed you so much, Yuuri.”

Yuuri read the message, and a mischievous look passed in his eyes. He put his elbows on the table and laced his fingers together, resting his chin on them. Victor was immediately taken back to the dinner in Turin when Yuuri had spent most of the time just staring at him in that exact position.

"I missed you very much too, Victor," Yuuri said, in accented but fluent English.

Victor gaped. Yuuri’s face became red, and the Japanese chuckled softly, dropping his gaze on the table, ducking his head slightly. When Victor kept staring without saying a word, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly but no sound coming out, Yuuri shrugged shyly.

“I have studied. Since I went back to Japan in February. Every day.”

Victor licked his lips and tried to speak, but only a hoarse sound came out of his throat. He grabbed the glass of water from the table and emptied it in one swoop, ending up coughing hard when the liquid went wrong. Yuuri’s eyes went wide, and the younger man jumped from his seat, running next to Victor, starting patting his back.

When finally Victor could breathe again, eyes teary and face red, Yuuri stayed next to him, caressing his back, eyes full of worry.

“I’m ok,” the Russian croaked, chuckling breathlessly. “Wow Yuuri, such an elaborate plan to get rid of me.”

Yuuri slapped Victor’s shoulder lightly, his face twisted into an unimpressed grimace, before going back to sit on his chair. They looked at each other for a few minutes, Victor still quite shocked and Yuuri smiling softly. Eventually, the Russian spoke again.

“You could have told me.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“But we could have talked during these months, instead of exchanging texts. Do you have any idea of how much I missed the sound of your voice?”

Yuuri lowered his eyes on the table for a moment, then raised them again to meet Victor’s. “I’m sorry. I really wanted to see your face.”

“Video chat, Yuuri.”

“In person.”

Victor poked his lower lip in an exaggerated pout, and Yuuri laughed.

They never stopped talking after that, the food on the plates turning cold.

____________________

  
  


Later, they found themselves on the sofa in Victor's room, snuggled next to each other, sides pressed together and a cup of hot tea in their hands.

During one of the rare lulls in their conversation, Victor suddenly moved, taking the teacup from Yuuri's hands and reaching out to place both on the table in front of them. Then he rolled slightly on himself, taking Yuuri’s hands and pulling lightly, silently asking the Japanese to do the same. Yuuri obeyed with a confused expression, and once they were facing each other, Victor looked down at their interlocked hands for a moment, before lifting his gaze, locking it with Yuuri's.

“Yuuri, I know it might sound ridiculous. We’ve spent three days together, and we’ve kissed twice.” A pause followed, with Victor trying to collect his thoughts. “It’s preposterous. It’s hardly enough time to learn about our favourite movies or how we like to spend our free time in all respects. And yet.”

Victor looked into Yuuri’s eyes for a long moment. The warm, brown pools speckled with gold stared back behind the glasses. Then the Russian said softly.

“Sabishikatta yo.”

Yuuri gasped loudly, shocked, gaping helplessly at Victor who couldn’t help but smile. 

“You are not the only one who studied. I wanted to talk to you as well. How could I ask you to spend the rest of your life with me otherwise?”

“That almost sounds like a marriage proposal,” Yuuri tried to joke, his voice shaky.

“I’m not against the idea.”

While saying those words, Victor left one of Yuuri’s hands to take a small box from under a pillow. Yuuri went very still.

“This is not me asking you to marry me, Yuuri. As I said, it’s preposterous.” Victor opened the box, showing a pair of rings - simple gold bands - glittering in the light of the room. He put it open on his knee, grabbing Yuuri’s hand again. The Russian’s eyes were suspiciously shimmering when he looked back to Yuuri. “This is me telling you that I will, one day. When we have spent more time together. When we have had the opportunity to live everyday life, argue, make peace, console, and encourage each other. When and if you agree to that step. This is me asking you-” Victor had to stop to swallow heavily. Then he inhaled deeply. “Will you give me this chance, Yuuri? The chance to prove to you that I’m serious, that I want to love you, cheer you, worship you?”

Yuuri was crying. He couldn’t hide his face behind his hands as he would usually have done because Victor held them in his grasp, but his face was turned down, and fat tears were falling on his legs. Victor brought a hand up to cup his cheek, tilting Yuuri’s head, so they were making eye contact. The Japanese’s eyelashes were clumped together by tears, and his cheeks were red.

“Do you mean it?” Yuuri asked between sobs.

“Of course, Yuuri. Of course, I do,” Victor said softly, tears starting streaming down his cheeks as well. He squeezed Yuuri’s hand in his. “I’m in love with you. With _you_. The man who couldn’t talk to me and showed me what love and life were anyway. Please, Yuuri, say yes.”

Yuuri couldn’t talk, but he nodded repeatedly. Victor took one of the rings with a trembling hand and slid it onto Yuuri’s finger. Shortly after, sniffing loudly, Yuuri mirrored the action.

There were no more words following.

____________________

  
  


_St. Petersburg, Russia_

_December 2006_

  
  
  


_From: beautiful Yuuri_

Are you sure of what you are doing, Vitya?  
  


_To: beautiful Yuuri_

I've never been more sure of anything in my life, Yuuri.❤️

____________________

  
  


_Tokyo, Japan_

_February 2007_

  
  


“Attention, please!”

Russian coach Nikolai Morozov’s voice rang in the rink, along with two crisp claps of his hands. The chatter of skaters and staff members of the Japanese Skating Federation died away, and all eyes moved to the coach. When he had everyone's attention, the Russian clasped his hands behind his back. After scanning the entire audience, he took a step sideways to reveal a tall, smiling man with silver hair and shocking blue eyes.

"We welcome the new staff member, Victor Nikiforov. Victor has worked for years in the Russian Federation, following athletes in international and national competitions. From today, he will work for the Japan Skating Federation. He recently moved to Tokyo, so let’s help him feel welcome here."

The group of athletes and staff bowed to Victor in welcome, and Victor returned the gesture. He noticed Yuuko smiling wide, and he winked.

"Thank you all. Please take care of me."

Victor glanced to the right side of the group until he met two large, dark, warm eyes, surrounded by blue-rimmed glasses and smiled softly. Once the introductions were over, Victor finally walked over to Yuuri, who was waiting for him on the sidelines. He stared into his eyes, inhaling deeply, hands raising to brush Yuuri's forearms.

"Tadaima," Victor whispered.

"Okaeri," Yuuri replied, with a smile more dazzling than the sun.

**Author's Note:**

> And here I am. I hope you liked it as much as I truly love it.
> 
> And now, information time!
> 
> \- [Piazza Castello.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piazza_Castello,_Turin) (the content in here is short, but you can have pictures of the square and it's linked to the pages of the two Palaces)
> 
> \- Bookshop "Paravia": this saddens me a lot. While doing my researches, I have discovered the bookshop has closed permanently in early 2020 because of the competition from Amazon. You can see how it was [here.](https://www.museotorino.it/images/78/c5/09/09/78c50909891c4492a567401d0cbd96fa-1.jpg?VSCL=100)
> 
> \- Goblin: it still exists, and it's actually bigger than it was. They have changed location now, but I have left them in the original one, where it was in 2006.
> 
> \- Contrada (dei Guardinfanti): there's not much more I can tell you about it, but I can show you a [picture.](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/db/c0/7c/dbc07c599dd711971b95d12d00e08bbf.jpg)
> 
> \- [Al Bicerìn.](https://bicerin.it/en/home-english/)
> 
> \- [Chiesa della Consolata.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Santuario_della_Consolata) Here's a [picture](https://www.guidatorino.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/chiesa-consolata-interno.jpg) of the specific part I have described
> 
> \- [Porta Palazzo market](https://www.spottedbylocals.com/turin/porta-palazzo/). And a [picture](https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dwyIsn9eBA8/VDiG9KGwXsI/AAAAAAAABms/yOofkHCOSGI/s1600/portapalazzo%2Bbirdsview.jpg) that shows the four parts.
> 
> \- [Mole Antonelliana](https://www.museocinema.it/en/museum-and-ma-prolo-foundation/mole-antonelliana)
> 
> \- [Piazza Vittorio Veneto](https://www.blinktravel.guide/turin/piazza-vittorio-veneto-square). This is the [view](https://themostbeautifulplacesineurope.files.wordpress.com/2017/01/torino2edit.jpg) of the other side of the river, where I mentioned the church "Gran Madre di Dio".
> 
> \- Murazzi: [by day](https://www.guidatorino.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/murazzi-torino-riapertura-2020.jpg) and [by night](https://mole24.it/wp-content/uploads/2019/07/IMG_20181127_112032.jpg).
> 
> \- [Parco del Valentino](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/c/c8/Autumn_colors_%284099639400%29.jpg). 
> 
> \- [Borgo Medievale](https://www.airdolomiti.eu/uploads/guide/header_image/289/parco-del-valentino-torino--fill--1400x600.jpg)
> 
> \- The restaurant where they went for dinner. Another thing the saddens me a lot. It was called Bastian Contrario and was absolutely amazing. It used to have 69 different antipasti, cold and warm, served on an all-you-can-eat basis. The main course was tagliolini (a pasta similar to spaghetti, but larger and thinner) with black truffle. It was one of my favourites restaurants in the whole city. But like the bookshop, it's now permanently closed.
> 
> \- sabishikatta yo: I missed you (informal. Thank you, Mr Em, for the consultation.)
> 
> I have no idea if a person who worked for a National Sport Federation, especially Russian, would be able to work for another one, especially a competitor, but in this story it's possible. :)
> 
> Thank you for bearing with me.


End file.
